Infinity's End: Books 4-6, page 33
Remembering Laska’s lessons, Cas took the initiative. “Thank you for your hospitality, we’re honored you’ve included us in this…ceremony.”
Diamant tapped his chest twice. “You are most welcome. However, I must insist on the seriousness of what you have entered, Caspian. The seeding circle is sacred and shall not be disrespected. Do you understand?” Cas nodded, then remembering the Bulaq might not understand he tapped his chest twice as well. Diamant smiled. “I am glad to see you know how to respect potential allies.”
Why did he feel like everything Diamant said came with a heaping of sarcasm? He needed to get this moving. “Vrij has told us of your plight. What happened to your world. To your system.”
“To all of us,” Diamant said. “None were immune. We are a proud people. To see this happen…it’s heartbreaking.”
“What are your current needs? How many people do you have here? And can you feed them all?”
“Our needs are numerous. Surely too much for you to satisfy. But I’m willing to listen anyway.” Diamant was still as a stone but Cas could already feel his legs getting tired in the crouch. He shifted.
“You’re right, we can’t provide enough food for everyone, but we can provide some. Along with medicines and techniques for growing more. Our civilization depends on growing and making food in space. I don’t know if yours—”
“We’re quite capable of making our own food,” Diamant said. He dropped his head. “Though I admit we could use assistance in certain areas. How much are you offering?”
“First let’s talk about what we need,” Cas replied. “Our ship was damaged recently. We have the ability to refine parts and components, but we need the materials. We can’t just make them out of thin air.”
“You’re in luck, Caspian. Materials we have,” Diamant said. “We are a race of builders, after all.”
“We saw your…temple? Under construction. Is that for—”
“To honor our Great Ones.” Diamant made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “The ones who have kept us alive during this time of trial. We all must endure hardships but, in the end, our people will thrive again.” Cas glanced over his shoulder at Vrij, who had pressed himself up against the far wall.
He turned back to the group. “Vrij mentioned your…Great Ones. Were they your spiritual leaders?”
“In a sense. They protected our world and our people. But when Laq was destroyed, the Great Ones perished with it. Those of us who remain decided a memorial in their honor was the best way to immortalize them.”
“But aren’t your people starving?” Ryant asked.
“I think what my friend means is how can you afford to continue to build if people can’t eat?” Cas added, shooting a look at Ryant.
Diamant narrowed his eyes. “Trust me. We manage.” His tenor changed. “I will need food and supplies for at least five thousand. Anything less and I’m afraid we’re wasting our time.”
That was out of the question. Even if he wanted to, they couldn’t provide that much. Tempest’s crew was barely over a hundred people. He could maybe provide enough for five hundred for a couple of weeks, but that would put a real strain on their own survival. He needed to switch tactics.
“There is something else we’re interested in,” Cas said. “Vrij told us you were the only person to survive the attack on your world. I’d like to hear that story.” He could feel Laura tense beside him. Diamant probably had little to no idea how important his information was, and Cas didn’t want to show his hand for fear of Diamant asking for even more in trade.
“I was lucky,” he replied. “But it is a harrowing tale.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ryant dropped from a crouch to his knees, wincing at the pain. Cas knew exactly how he felt, though Laura seemed not to be bothered by it. “You say you’re from a faraway place.”
“That’s right,” Cas replied.
“Then I propose a tale for a tale. Perhaps afterward we can discuss more…tangible arrangements.”
Panic ran through Cas’s mind. Was there any downside to telling Diamant about their situation? He didn’t need to mention they were looking for the Andromeda aliens, he could just say they were on an exploration. And if they got the information they required, why not? It might also loosen him up to negotiation.
“Okay,” Cas replied. “A tale for a tale.”
Diamant clapped his hands once over his head. One of the guards left the room, though no one else moved. Cas couldn’t take it anymore; his legs were killing him. Diamant hadn’t seemed to take any offense to Ryant resting on his knees so Cas did the same, relishing in the brief sensation of relief in his legs. He’d be feeling that tomorrow. He watched Diamant’s face for any indication it was a problem but saw no change.
The guard returned with a large bottle of green liquid which he handed off to Diamant before returning to his post by the door.
“You should feel honored. This is one of the last bottles of Ossak from my world. It is imbibed when important information is being discussed. It…peels away the distractions.” Diamant smiled, grasping the neck of the bottle and uncorking the stopper. He tipped the bottle and a drop of the viscous liquid fell into his mouth. To Cas, it resembled tar inside and he wasn’t sure about sharing in it. There was no telling what its effects could be on a human body. Diamant offered the bottle but Cas hesitated. Whatever was in there could be poisonous for all he knew. They had zero information on the Bulaq digestive and blood systems.
“Here,” Ryant said, holding his hand out for the bottle. “In our culture we drink counterclockwise.”
Diamant glanced at Ryant, then back at Cas as if he suspected this might be a lie, but he handed the bottle off anyway. Cas made a subtle shake of his head for Ryant not to drink it, but the larger man ignored him. And before Cas could attempt to convince him further, he tipped the bottle back and one drop hit his tongue.
Ryant smacked his lips, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “It’s sweeter than I expected,” he said. Cas watched for any signs he might get sick or otherwise show an adverse reaction but there were none. “I hope that comes around more than once.”
“Then you’re in luck. Traditionally, if the conversation lasts until the bottle is empty, it is considered a successful meeting,” Diamant said, a smile on his face.
Cas eyed the bottle as Ryant passed it to Laura. She stared at it a moment with genuine interest, then smelled the opening. Without looking to Cas for confirmation she tipped it back and a drop fell on her tongue. A small smile appeared on her lips as she passed the bottle over.
It was slightly warm in Cas’s hands and the liquid inside moved slow and with purpose as he inspected the bottle. He almost had to laugh; after all the poison he’d drank over the years he was squeamish about this one unknown substance. If only Evie could see him now, hesitation and the unknown clouding his judgment. But Diamant was watching him intently and Cas got the distinct impression if he didn’t comply, there was no chance of making a deal.
He tipped the bottle back.
“That’s quite a story,” Diamant said.
Cas blinked; his head foggy. The Ossak either had hallucinogenic—or at the very least—alcoholic properties. Not only did he feel supremely good, but he also felt his lips loosening. Was this what Diamant had meant when he said the it stripped away all the distractions? He glanced over at Ryant and Laura, both who looked about as well as he felt. Their eyes were glazed, but not to the point where they were out of it. He could see them struggling to maintain their grasp on the situation. But they swayed and every few minutes had to retrain their focus on the flame in the middle of the circle.
The only good Cas could see was Diamant seemed to be having just as much trouble as they were. His eyes had gone glassy and he’d straightened into an unnatural position, as if attempting to assume dominance. But his attention had remained rapt on Cas as he told him how they managed to find themselves so far away from the Coalition. He’d done his best to stay light on the finer details, attempting to craft a plausible story about a group of explorers, though he hadn’t been able to keep from mentioning Suzanna and his sense of loss.
“I must say, I’m sorry to hear about your crew.” Diamant leaned forward, his focus completely on Cas. “How are you handling it, Caspian?”
He shrugged. “As well as we can. I miss her, though.”
“Of course you do. After all, how were you to know this creature would kill them so mercilessly?” Cas winced. Diamant had just taken a drink and passed the bottle. “But you shouldn’t blame yourself.”
He could almost feel the tears welling up inside him, but he kept them hammered down. If Diamant saw he’d gotten to something precious, he’d use it for all it was worth. He was testing Cas for weaknesses. “I’ve lost a lot of crews in the past. You get over it,” he said with a certain amount of disdain in his voice, hating himself for disrespecting her memory.
“So,” Diamant said, his voice lighter as if they hadn’t just been talking about one of the worst experiences of Cas’s life. “Then you found yourselves in the system with the three suns,” Diamant said.
Cas nodded, taking a measured breath. The bottle was still with Ryant who had yet to pass it on to Laura again. The blue flame danced in front of them, its energy taking on a life of its own. “We did. And found ourselves in an ambush.” Here was where he needed to be careful. He wanted to move on to information about the aliens, but he couldn’t tip his hand. He’d already taken this farther than he’d meant to. “A ship…appeared. As if from nowhere. And it controlled these mines. If not for our navigator, we never would have made it out of there alive. But we sustained damage. Which is the whole reason I’m—we’re here.”
“Out of nowhere, you say.” Diamant rolled the words around in his mouth. Laura took the bottle from Ryant and with what seemed like a will of strength, tipped it until another drop fell on her tongue. For a second her eyes rolled into the back of her head before she focused again and held the bottle for Cas, her arm shaking. Cas noticed it was only about half empty. Any hope of finishing it was out the airlock; they couldn’t last that long. But maybe they just needed to get through Diamant’s tale. He glanced behind him; the two guards hadn’t moved and Vrij remained beside the wall, though he’d slunk down and was clicking his finger claws together in a strange rhythm.
“This ship, that came from nowhere. What did it look like?” Diamant asked.
Cas held the bottle, prolonging the next drink. “Black, with kind of a plow on the front. Sweeping wings to the sides. I saw no windows.” He wasn’t about to mention he’d been aboard; that would only invite unwanted questions.
Diamant nodded. “I too have seen this ship. And others like it. They are the ones who attacked my homeworld. We call them the Cho’ju’itsa. It means Destroyer of Worlds.”
“What can you tell me?” Cas lifted the bottle and another drop fell on his tongue. It was having a cumulative effect. He wasn’t even sure he could stand if he wanted to.
Diamant took the bottle. “My illustrious career came to an end that day. I used to be a Second Qyall in the military. It was my life.” He paused, taking a drink. “Or that’s what I thought before I found…this.” He motioned to the room around him. “My ship was on patrol on the other side of Laq when they came. We received a general alert to unknown ships entering the system.” He paused again and Cas couldn’t help but think it was for nothing more than effect. “There were so many. We had no idea. Thousands. Like little bugs, filling up space.” He tapped at the air with his fingers. “When our scout vessels attempted to contact them all their ships stopped, turning to face our planet. They each initiated a forced plasma beam which entangled itself with the beams from every other ship in formation.” He stopped; his eyes having glazed over as if he were living it all over again in his mind’s eye. “They gave no warning. The blast hit the northern continent, where many of our larger cities were. At first, I thought it was nothing more than orbital bombardment. And I was furious, demanding we return fire. But before our commander could give the order, we got word the planet’s crust was breaking apart.” He paused again, letting it sink in. “Imagine that for a moment. Watching your home, watching everything you love, break apart in front of your eyes.” He drew his hand into a fist, his claws cutting into his palm. “I thought the readings must be false, but there was no disguising what we saw with our own eyes. In that instant everything changed for us.
“As soon as he saw what was happening, the commander ordered us behind one of Laq’s three moons. The concussive blast of the planet breaking into millions of pieces at once destroyed or crippled most of our fleet surrounding the planet, and threw the gravitational pull of the moons out of sync. We were saved from the first shockwave but hit with debris from the moons breaking apart. It was a miracle we survived as long as we did.” He paused.
“But that wasn’t the end of it,” Cas said. The story’d had a sobering effect on him. He didn’t take his eyes off Diamant, only willed him to continue. Any firsthand accounts of what the aliens were capable of was perhaps more valuable than the building materials.
“No. The ship was in chaos. Our commander ordered us to begin an assault on the aliens, but our propulsion was down, and we were being pulled along with what was left of the moon, being thrown from orbit. Our ship was disabled, and we lost all control. People were thrown all over the ship. I lost consciousness.”
“You didn’t see what happened next?”
Diamant touched his forehead with two fingers, the movement slow and deliberate. “Odan. Our lifegiver. I can only assume they used their weapons on him. I’ve heard from others the fusion reaction inside Odan became so great that he expanded, then collapsed, creating a do’shan. An ending to everything.”
“A supernova,” Cas replied.
“The resulting explosion caused a cascade reaction in Arla, Odan’s mate. Together their destructive power destroyed the system, all the planets, all the moons, everything. When I awoke, my entire crew was dead, and the system was decimated. My ship was in pieces, but somehow…I had survived.”
Cas leaned forward. “Do you know how? Or why?”
A smile played on his lips. “The why is easy. To lead my people into the next era of our society. How I survived? I do not know. I can only assume it was the protection of the Great Ones and their choices to bestow upon me the burden of leading our people. They knew I was the only one strong enough for it.” He took another drink from the bottle and stared at the ground for a few minutes. He looked up with clarity in his eyes. “Now that we’ve exchanged our tales, shall we continue our negotiation?”
Chapter Fifteen
Zenfor stared at the ceiling of her quarters, barely visible in what little light filtered in from the stars through the window. She’d modified the bedding they’d provided her with as soon as she and Mil’less had boarded, but it had never really felt right. The bed itself was too…static. Not only was she not used to sleeping, but the idea of being fully unconscious pushed an undercurrent of fear through her. And for the first four days on their trip back, she hadn’t slept, instead attempting to fight it off as she might a childhood disease. While Mil’less, however, hadn’t had trouble with it. Then over the next “days” (a Coalition term) she’d found she could fall unconscious for short periods of time. A few squirms here and there. She became more accustomed to the accommodations and setting her body in a routine, and found she could sleep for hours at a time. When Tempest had arrived at the Excel Nebula, she’d managed to work herself up to six hours a night, which she felt was more than enough. Any longer and she was doing nothing more than wasting time she could be working. And she couldn’t help but wonder how Mil’less was spending her time on Starbase Eight. That was her unique property, large problems never seemed to bother Mil’less. Not like they did for others, especially Zenfor.
But ever since those first few weeks on the ship when she’d acclimated to normal bodily functions again she hadn’t had as much trouble sleeping as she was having now. It was as if her mind couldn’t shut off to allow her to rest. In some ways she saw this as a triumph of her iron will: that her mind was refusing to cooperate with the limits her body imposed on her. But on the other hand, it was infuriating as she knew she had to be up at a certain time and if she did not get her required sleep her performance would suffer the following day. Returning to the sanctity and stability of a Sil ship couldn’t come soon enough.
Frustrated, she pushed herself out of bed, still fully dressed, and left her quarters. It was the middle of third shift, but a lot of crews were working overtime to try and repair all the damage from their time at Omicron Terminus. She passed two maintenance crews on her way from her quarters to Engineering.
Once she arrived, she realized this was one part of the ship that probably rarely saw downtime. Humans buzzed back and forth, so busy with their own work they didn’t even notice her. The only person who seemed to realize she was there was Sesster, at the far end of the room in his cradle. One of his appendages extended upwards as she entered. Zenfor averted her eyes to avoid the rest of the crew as she made her way to the back of the room. If there was one thing humans were annoyingly good at, it was asking you how you were when you made eye contact with them. She’d learned the best way to get through the days wasn’t to look at anyone. Ever.
Hello, Zenfor, it’s a pleasure to see you this late.
She took up her position at her console, without bothering to turn it on. Even though her gaze was on the computer, all her attention was on the Claxian in the room. Good evening. That’s what you say, right? Morning, afternoon, evening.
It is what many humans say. On Claxia Prime we greet in many ways. One of which is to say, your presence honors me.
That’s very appropriate. She’d much prefer that to “how are you today, Consul?” or “have a wonderful afternoon”. Humans were so concerned with what could be they forgot to focus on what was.
